Kiss Me Already So We Can Get Out of This Damn Box
by Cyri's Alter Ego
Summary: If one thing could be said for Matt, it was that he was definitely not claustrophobic. MelloxMatt, rated for Mello's mouth.


_I see that you've decided to give this absurdly lengthily-titled fic a shot. I hope you'll approve. It's yet another Death Note oneshot on my part, my second MelloxMatt, and the worst part is, I can sense more ideas for oneshots niggling to be written._

_BAD BRAIN._

_Aside from that, all the regular things apply. Mello is Mello, so he's overly sexual and swears without restraint. Matt is Matt, so he drools over Mello and also swears without restraint. And if the idea of two guys kissing freaks you out, then this is your warning. Bye-bye._

_..._

_Still here? Why, thank you. _

_Introducing... Kiss Me Already So We Can Get Out of This Damn Box!_

**_DISCLAIMER: Don't own in any way, shape, or form._**

* * *

**Kiss Me Already So We Can Get Out of This Damn Box**

* * *

Matt was warm, and fairly comfortable. Despite the fact that his goggles were pressing into his face, and his left foot was at an angle so awkward that he had lost all feeling in it, his nose was buried in long hair, hot breaths were fanning out across his neck, and his arm was wrapped around a slender midriff, just inches below a strip of tight leather-

Wait.

Leather.

_Fuck_.

Matt sat up quickly, and promptly slammed his head against something that he couldn't see. Blinking away stars, he put up a hand above his head and carefully felt around in the darkness. There was a hard, inflexible surface just above his head, and - Matt ran his fingers across it - it gave way all too quickly to a pair of equally solid walls.

It was a box, Matt realised, his heart sinking. He, and apparantly someone else, were trapped inside some sort of box, about a metre up and down, and he couldn't see a bloody thing. He was pretty sure, though, that he knew the identity of the other person currently snoring gently beside him.

Matt gingerly lowered his hand to check, half afraid of grabbing somewhere awkward. Luckily, his fingertips brushed a muscled forearm, and he quickly found his way - yup, that was definitely leather - to the face.

Okay. Hair. Fringe. Yes. Leather collar. Nose. Scar - Matt could feel the raw, raised areas where the flesh had been ripped away. Yeah. His guess had been correct. It was Mello. Matt let his fingers rest on Mello's cheek for a moment while he thought hard. (Deduction had been Wammy's, fifth year - Matt had scored third in class, as usual.)

Right. Box. So how had this happened? Matt assumed that being shoved into a claustrophobically tiny area with another male wasn't something he'd likely forget in a hurry. So maybe Kira? Or alcohol? Or alcohol and Kira? Or perhaps the Mafia had just finally got sick of taking orders from a girly teenager.

But why put them in a _box_?

While thinking this through, Matt noticed something. He appeared to be missing his jacket. This was annoying, because he liked that jacket. Not to mention the fact that it kept a games console and a packet of cigarettes in its pockets at all times, and, well... Matt was supposed to be starting patches, but he really wanted a smoke. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had one.

...Actually, this wasn't saying much at this point, because he couldn't remember very much of what had happened to him in general.

Apart from that, Matt appeared to be fully clothed- no, wait. He shifted slightly into a crouch, noting the loss of both his gloves and one boot. Just one.

...Okay...

Apart from _that_, Matt seemed to be fully clothed, which meant that the likelihood that he had just awoken from a night of crazy sex was minimal. He couldn't deny it - when he had first woken up, he hadn't been sure...

He wasn't entirely certain whether or not this disappointed him.

Well, considering that it was Mello...

That was when he realised that the snoring had stopped.

"Matt. Why are you stroking my face?"

Matt jumped. "Wha- how did you know it was me?" He had forgotten to remove his fingertips from Mello's ruined face, which he now quickly did, very glad that Mello couldn't see how red he had gone.

"Who else would be fondling me so obviously? I know which way you swing." Matt froze, before he realised that Mello was joking. There was a leathery creak as the blonde swung himself upright - and promptly made the mistake Matt had. "Ouch! Fuck!"

"Ceiling there," Matt supplied helpfully.

"Bitch," muttered Mello, presumably shooting the offending surface a death glare. As if Matt should know, he asked, "So why are we in this box?"

"No idea. Can't you remember?"

"Nope. And for the record, the only reason I'm not incredibly concerned about that is because I'm still dressed." Out of nowhere, a hand shot out and grabbed Matt around the thigh. "Yeah, and so are you. Except for... hang on, have you lost your shoes?"

Grimacing, Matt replied, "Just one. And the jacket. And the gloves."

"Huh. That's weird, I haven't... _Shit_."

"What? What's happened?" On reflex, Matt drew his fists back in a guard position (capoeria and other martial arts, Wammy's, second year and above), although the fact that he was sitting down probably rendered it a little useless.

"Shit, where the fuck's my rosary?"

Matt lowered his fists. Okay. For Mello, that was a huge deal. But for Matt, who had thought they were under attack or something, it was a slight relief. "...Oh."

"Oh? _Oh_? This isn't a time for saying _oh_! What son-of-a-bitch locked us in here, huh? Oh, I bet it was Near, stupid twit-head. I'm gonna get him for this. I am going to _get_ him for this one..."

If Matt had been less wise to the ways of Mello's tantrums, he would have told him to calm down. As it was, he scooted into a corner and started checking to see if he had had the presence of mind to bring some weapons with him into this box.

...Apparently not. For once in his life, Matt was clean out of guns.

There was a thump as Mello vented his rage on the side of the box and continued to rant. "...And I bet he's watching us right now, feeling so fucking full of himself... Hey, Near, can you hear me? That's right, I'm speaking to you!"

Matt ignored him and cast back his memory. What was the last thing he could remember doing? He'd beaten the second-to-last boss on Zelda... He'd had a cigarette, noticing particularly because he was getting worryingly low... No, wait, but that was before Mello had come storming in with a thick slab of papers in his hand, all anger and passion and sweet, sexy leather...

And that was the last Matt could remember.

Quite frankly, the direction his thoughts had just shown him was startling. So then they'd ended up snuggling in a box? Somehow, Matt didn't think that this had happened of its own accord.

Mello had progressed to yelling now. "COME ON OUT, YOU COWARDLY BASTARD! COME ON, COME AT ME-"

"Greetings, Mello. Greetings, Matt."

Both boys stopped where they were. Matt's eyes darted uselessly in the pitch-dark for the source of the voice.

Mello spoke first, trembling with disbelief and fury. "..._Near_? What the-"

"Your deduction is impeccable as always, Mello," Near interrupted dryly. "Are the two of you quite comfortable?"

"Are the two of us quite-?"

"No, what do you think?" Matt cut in shortly. Mello was obviously going to be of no use here. "What is going on?"

"I shall explain, Matt. First of all; I have installed both night vision and infra-red cameras into the box- both of which, Mello, I assure you you should have found, but as usual, you were distracted by the pull of your own emotions. I can see everything that you are doing. Your box is made of a high density titanium alloy that I am confident you cannot break your way out of by force. I have removed all of your weapons - including the ones hidden in your gloves, jacket, and left boot, Matt - and brought the two of you to the headquarters of the SPK in a drugged, unconscious state, which is why you have no memory of this."

"What about my rosary?" demanded Mello.

"Yes, we also have that."

"Why? It's not hiding anything!"

Near hesitated. Matt imagined the smallest of smiles on his face. "Well, that... was just to mess with you."

"_What_? How dare you-"

"What's this for, Near?" Despite himself, Matt could feel his temper rising. Being confined with someone like Mello and not doing anything about it was starting to get frustrating.

"Well," replied Near infuriatingly calmly, "you see, Gevanni and I... have a bet."

"A bet on what?"

"On you."

Mello went silent. That concerned Matt, and it suddenly occured to him that he might want to get out of the way, quick.

Oh, yeah. They were trapped.

"Don't you have better things to do?" Matt asked Near critically. "Such as, uh... I don't know, catch Kira?"

Before Near could respond, Mello abruptly shot, "What's the bet about?" Matt heard the characteristic squeak of leather as he shifted in the blackness.

The amusement was heavy in Near's voice now. "Ah, now, that's quite the interesting part. Allow me to explain.

As part of our standard surveillance, we in the SPK have been observing you as a potential threat to our welfare, Mello. After seeing how close you are to your colleague Matt, Gevanni brought up the idea that the two of you might be a couple. I quickly dismissed the suggestion, but could not deny that I suspected this turn of events in the close enough future. Gevanni disagreed with me. He is firmly of the mindset that the sexual tension between you both has grown so impeding that neither of you would make a move even were you trapped in an impenetrable box together. And so-"

"Whoa, hold on, wait, wait, wait, wait!" Matt spluttered, sitting straight up. He was now incredibly glad that the darkness was absolute, because his cheeks were burning as bright as red-hot torches.

Was he really _that_ obvious?

But he hadn't even worked it out for himself yet!

And this was _Near_ they were talking about - hell, did the kid even know what sexual tension was?

Mello was quiet only for a few seconds. "Near, do you have my rosary there with you?"

"Yes." There was a slight clink of beads on a chain. "As soon as I win the bet, I shall release you and give it to you. And I think that there is an eighty-five percent chance of me winning within the next five minutes."

Oh, he had to put a number on it.

"So..." said Mello expectantly.

"_So_," Near answered slowly, "...kiss."

Matt blanched.

"Always knew you were a pervert deep down," muttered Mello. There was another creak. "Matt?"

Matt collected himself together, tried hard not to think of how much he wanted a cigarette, and said, "Y-yes?"

"Do me a favour and lend me your face."

"You're actually going to do it?" Matt yelped, scrabbling wildly in his corner for fear of a surprise attack. Screw the undeniable fact that he'd probably wanted to kiss Mello since he was about twelve - now that it came to it he was beginning to get a serious case of stage fright.

"Sure. You want to get out of here, right? I mean, it's just a kiss." Famous last words. "And anyway, it's not like we haven't both had practise, right?"

Uh, _no_. Actually, Matt had no practise _whatsoever _on that, um, front. But before he could vocalise this, he was assaulted.

Mello lunged in the darkness, crashing headfirst into Matt's chest. They did an awkward sort of dance as Mello aimed for Matt's face and Matt tried to swerve away, but Mello grasped at his wrists with strong, skinny fingers and pinned his hands helplessly above his head.

"M-Mello!" Matt wriggled to no avail. He had ended up sitting pressed ungracefully against the wall with his legs splayed, Mello kneeling between them.

"Jeez," Mello mumbled, "stop it. Why are you fucking struggling so much?"

Why was he struggling? Because he was afraid he was going to enjoy this way more than he was supposed to, that was why! Already he was having trouble not thinking about how very comprimising this position was...

Aargh!

"This'll just take a sec," Mello assured him, "but loosen up a bit, 'cause we've gotta make it convincing, okay?" Matt still couldn't see him, even though he was so close. It was so dark. "Just kiss me already so we can get out of this damn box."

And then, without preamble, Mello had smashed their mouths together.

Uh... whoa. 'Kissing pretty fuckin' incredibly' wasn't anywhere on the Wammy's syllabus, but Mello had clearly been getting lessons from somewhere. Hovering between stunned and very turned on, Matt gave in and surrendered to his invasive lips.

It was just as Matt had feared - he was enjoying this _far_ too much - but he had stopped caring. In fact, he had forgotten. He had forgotten there was any other world but Mello; the very scent of him, the taste, the feel. He felt Mello smirk slightly against his lips and pull back a fraction of an inch.

"Shit, Matt, you're not half bad at this," he murmured. He relaxed his hands on Matt's wrists and found the way to his waist. With a grin that Matt couldn't see, he pressed up close. "Okay, Near... you asked for it."

Matt had no time to react before Mello whipped around and threw him to the ground in exactly the same motion that Matt had always been victim to in their days fighting at the orphanage. It was a practised move. Matt should have seen it coming. But this was different to their childhood fights.

So different.

From then on, it got a little messy and jumbled. There was no more room on the floor than there was upright, but that didn't seem to bother Mello, who casually straddled his friend and resumed his seige with surprising accuracy for one who couldn't see. Matt was not so coordinated - he jerked upwards and their teeth knocked together, foreheads colliding painfully.

"Ow... fuck off, Matt, _I'm_ on top," said Mello incoherently, his girlishly long hair tickling the hollow at the base of Matt's neck.

And Matt didn't care. He knew that Near was watching every second of this, and he didn't care. He just hoped that the white-haired detective was getting half as much pleasure out of this as he was. Gasping and accidentally biting Mello's bottom lip ("Well, if that's how you wanna play it..." "Fuck off.") he discovered the taut inches of exposed skin where the leather cut off and pulled him still closer. Mello did not protest.

"All right." Near's voice issued into their dark box. "I think that the evidence is conclusive. I have won. I will let you out."

He was soundly ignored.

"Mello?"

There was no answer.

"Matt?"

Matt was too busy to reply.

"Hello? ...Hello? ...Well, if you don't want your rosary back, it has no effect on me; however-"

Mello didn't look up, but he flipped his middle finger in the direction of Near's camera.

Near was silenced.

* * *

When Mello and Matt emerged from the box over an hour later, Matt's goggles were lopsided and his expression dazed. Mello, on the other hand, looked very smug indeed, and with a tight hold on Matt's hand, marched over to Near. Matt was dragged along obediently.

Near sat on the edge of a towering castle of cards, and he looked at Mello with a sort of horrified fascination. When Mello held out his hand with a raised eyebrow, he dropped the rosary into his palm without a word.

Satisfied, Mello pocketed it and snaked his arm around Matt's waist with a smirk. "And that, _Near_, is how you really _win_."

For his part, Matt discovered that he rather liked small spaces.


End file.
